Eyes and Nose of Azkaban
by Darth Krande
Summary: Hagrid's brief stay at Azkaban gives Sirius an entirely new perspective and a brilliant idea. Nobody expected him to befriend his guards; he never expected to get involved in their business. And they never expected to have a guide dog...
1. A cold room

**Eyes and Nose of Azkaban**

 **A cold room**

Surprise was the first emotion that stirred the cold air. It was dull and plain at first, but it soon escalated into a shock as the bored wizard's mind slowly put things together. Wizard? For the amount of magic in here, he could as well have been a muggle. The only difference being a wizard made was being able to see his guards. As far as he had heard, muggles couldn't see them, although they could still feel their presence. Stranger it would be if someone would be capable of NOT feeling them.

Sirius Black dropped back on his simple bed, and waited for the last footsteps to die in the distance. It was cold in here, but he couldn't risk morphing with Ministry people still in sight. Dementors were blind, aurors were not. He was lucky they didn't get suspicious after seeing all the fur he'd shed. It was late spring; he couldn't help it.

So, Hagrid had been led away by a loudly apologizing (and shivering - yes, Azkaban did that to everyone) procession, and Sirius had been left to his thoughts. He heard Hagrid (Hagrid! HAGRID!) call the guards horrible and disgusting and unbearable. The spark of rivalry sprang to life in him. If that's the opinion of the half-giant raising werewolves under his bed, then it's up to Padfoot to be the first to... Well. He needed to think this through again. He curled up, and buried his nose under his tail.

For as far as he knew, dementors preferred warm, humid places full of life. Azkaban was barren, windy, horribly unlike the swamps these creatures originated from. After the twelve years he'd spent imprisoned, he could tell they didn't like this place anymore than the convicted inhabitants. Why were they forced to stay here? Because some of them were said to sympathize with We-Know-Who. Isn't that the same prejudice that befell the giants? Or werewolves; Sirius bitterly howled at the window's scarce light. Prongs and Lily had died because out of three friends, they had suspected the werewolf of treason... Just because he was a werewolf. Not telling Moony about the Fidelius charm had seemed only reasonable.

Now that he had faced his preconceptions, Sirius tried to look at the dementors like he had previously expected Hagrid to have done. Showing he could tell one from another would be a first step, he hoped. He uncurled so that his nose pointed in the direction where they'd bring dinner in a few hours. The one with the crooky hands was Skipps. Vaqqu had icy frostwork on his hood, and often on other parts of his clothing. The bulky one with the strange aura, not nearly as aggressive as the others', was Daire.

Who named them, Sirius wondered. Who would give an Irish name to a tropical creature? Wasn't that an insult to their true selves?

There. He was talking exactly like Hagrid. More so than the real one, he recalled.

He allowed himself a bitter smile.


	2. Magical touch

**Magical touch**

Sirius Black had wasted twelve years of his life. Twelve years that, as he just recently discovered, could have been a lot more eventful if he'd just appreciated the opportunity no other wizard was ever given.

The dementors knew he was innocent. They read thoughts like a gourmand reads the menu, daintily selecting joyful memories and brazen ideas. Sirius could attest, they would much rather feed on mass murderers than an unfortunate animagus. So much about their supposed support for that certain dark lord! They'd rather eat his soul, given a chance.

The large black dog touched his nose to Vaqqu's frost-lined sleeve, guiding the blind creature away from the steep stairs. Since Padfoot and the dementors had made their unspoken alliance, they often sneaked out of Azkaban together. Once a Marauder, always a Marauder.

But this wasn't just an unofficial leave from the isolated prison. Years ago, a young deatheater named Bartemius Crouch Junior had been convicted, but the one who had died in his cell had previously been radiating maternal love, then the corpse was soaked with polyjuice potion. Dementors were not so blind as to miss such poignant magic, but which wizard would consider their statement opposed to the influential Ministry official Bartemius Crouch Senior? Now their seeing-eye dog was more than eager to come along and investigate.

The outside world had changed a lot since the First Wizarding War, but they sniffed out Barty Crouch without difficulties. Who would have noticed them? Muggles only saw a shaggy stray dog, and turned a blind eye. Wizards and witches only saw the black robes of Azkaban's keepers, and, surprise, they turned a blind eye too. There was no difference.

They were still two hundred yards from the Crouch residence when Skipps gave a threatening howl, which the others soon joined. Their choir sounded like an especially malignant wind through the trees.

The wizarding world had lost so much with not appreciating the dementors' abilities, Sirius realized. He didn't need to ask what the howling was for: this was their usual reaction to an Unforgivable Curse.

He sneaked forward quietly, sometimes on two feet, sometimes on four. He had to see what Unforgivable act had happened to the pureblood family!

He heard a squeaky sound, perhaps that of a house-elf. He heard the rattling breath of the dementors, then their sated sigh. They had just breathed in some sort of very potent magic.

Suddenly, the door sprang open, and the younger Crouch was seen against the backlight, laughing like a maniac. He was holding his own father at wand point, rejoicing in his freedom now that the Imperius's effect was over. The next moment, the wand was pointed at a defenseless Sirius Black, who could have easily become the loose deatheater's first victim.

"Avada..."

Daire's hand touched Barty Crouch's wand, taking all magic potential from it. By the time the young man had said the second part of the curse, he was holding just a plain piece of wood.


	3. Home is my castle

**Home is my castle**

'Bartimeus Crouch Senior and Junior Found Kissed,' the editorial article of the Daily Prophet read the other day. Sirius put it down on the cell floor with a mixture of laughter and nostalgia. He recalled how often they would return to Hogwarts after they had accompanied Moony for yet another adventurous full-moon night. Though they had (thank God!) never made it to the Prophet's front page then.

Dementors gathered around him, not to steal his joy, but to share it. He had to read it aloud once again.

According to the article, there was no witness apart from the Crouch family's house-elf. The Ministry was going to start an investigation of how the two Kisses could happen.

This was bad news. If there was an investigation among the Ministry's plans, however, then it would certainly include a visit to Azkaban. Skipps, who had performed the Kiss on Crouch Senior, not without reason but completely without authorization, would be in great trouble if the Ministry people found out the truth. Padfoot rested his head on an exceptionally crooky hand, and got an ear-rub in return. They were in this together.

* * *

An hour later Vaqqu entered the cell with ink and parchment. Sirius accepted them with a heavy sigh. If he had managed to befriend dementors, then maybe this long overdue letter would also not be as impossible to write, either. Still, it took him half a day to finish. Apologies are, apparently, truly the hardest incantations of all. Hardest, but powerful. The owl left a few minutes before noon. And, to his surprise, returned before dinner, with a hastily written reply between his talons.

Moony wrote that he was doing 'relatively fine'. He accepted the apology with a dry remark that being accused of treason by his best friends was not even the worst that had happened to him on that horrible week.

But, as he pointed out, time went on, and James and Lily's son was going to start his third year at Hogwarts. Moony would be teaching him this year. He promised to write again.

Sirius stared at the dementor in front of his cell. He couldn't see from this angle, but it had to be Daire. Tactful, amazing Daire, who must have volunteered to be his guard this afternoon, so that he could read the letter with undisturbed emotions. He tried not to think about this creature digesting Crouch Junior's soul just a foot from his door. He also tried to ignore that Daire had attacked the deatheater in his defense...

* * *

The next issue of the Daily Prophet also had the Crouch story on the front page. 'Former Head of Law Enforcement Used Imperius On Own Son.' Sirius didn't have time to read on because the investigation crew arrived. He hid the paper under his blankets and looked around. Every other inmate in Azkaban was just sitting and muttering to themselves, not reading the Prophet. Maybe he should be doing the same, just once, to avoid any suspicion.


	4. (Non-) Eternal

**(Non)-Eternal**

September's full moon granted certainty to a long-suspected fact: dementors were truly capable of holding back a werewolf. Their presence, however, also weakened the effects of the wolfsbane potion, which they learnt the hard way. But there were no casualties, so all was fine, as far as the two wizards and the three creatures were concerned.

Morning found the group in a small clearing of the Forbidden Forest. Sirius was sitting on a rock near the creek, watching an acromantula battle with Skipps. No matter how many times the dementor wrestled the huge spider into the ground, she still stood up and continued her attempt to devour the intruder.

"They're enjoying this leave just as much as I do," Padfoot whispered. "Skipps has never in his life been this far from Azkaban before."

"You talk like Hagrid," Moony remarked. "And that wasn't a compliment. Hey, speaking of pets. Do you know whom the Weasley kid is keeping? I'll give you one hint: a rat. I believe he's been a rat for over a decade."

Rage was Sirius's first reaction. 'Fully deserved' was the second. Then, "If you could just get us in during classes, I could clear myself! You are on sick leave today, aren't you, Moony?"

* * *

The Room of Requirement had much to offer to a cornered wizard. Chased by his betrayed friends, Pettigrew ran inside, and the first thing he'd found was a unicorn skull, complete with a huge horn. Panicked, he used that as a dagger... And impaled Daire with it.

Then, he morphed again and vanished among the junk. Moony and the two other dementors followed him in a hopeless chase.

Sirius fell on his knees next to his wounded keeper. He'd never before seen a dementor dying: the characteristic rattling breath became a series of clicks, the pale skin started to fade. The air turned icy as he attempted to take in as much energy as he could, which wasn't much. As his hood fell back, Sirius could only see emptiness inside. But even this close, in the greatest need, Daire refused to feed from an innocent. Not when Sirius was this close to regaining his freedom. No matter that he needed his strength, his hope.

Sirius looked around miserably. Had the Room of Requirement nothing to offer when they needed it?

A few steps away, he spotted something. It looked like few drops of molten gold at the bottom of a dusty bottle. Liquid Luck. He drank it without hesitation. Then, he shouted "Wait here!" and sprinted away to the far corner of the room. He returned with Rowena Ravenclaw's long-lost diadem between his fangs.

By then, Daire was lying flat, hardly more than an extremely cold black cloak. When Padfoot got back, however, he grabbed the jewelry and lifted it to his own mouth. Sirius only recognized the Kiss because he'd witnessed one just a few weeks before. What was this? A soul-piece, preserved for an emergency?

"We must tell Dumbledore!" he decided.


	5. New moon

**New moon**

When he and Remus had been students at Hogwarts, they'd usually started plotting the next Marauder adventure two weeks ahead. Now, Sirius had much greater plans in the making. For the first time in over twelve years, he got to sleep in his own bed (and also, without any blood-purist Slytherin family members around) yet he was up all night. Thoughts were running through his mind. It was also a lot warmer than what he got used to. Eventually he went downstairs, into the cold.

His gaze fell on the huge dark blurr in front of the cold fireplace. Daire's familiar rattling breath and chilly cold filled the living-room. Now that he was asleep, the dementor's outline had faded. Presumably, Sirius wondered, this was how he'd be perceived by a squib when awake.

For just an eyeblink's time, the pile of black cloak solidified, and the loud breathing was replaced with a cautious wind when Sirius came too close. Then Daire fell back asleep, having identified the wizard as his benefactor. The one who had saved his life with that diadem. The one who had invited him to stay at 12, Grimmauld Place, when it had become clear that he wouldn't survive in Azkaban. Sirius recalled Vaqqu explaining to him that the prison was too crowded with dementors for the wounded to feed. The wizard had immediately offered his family's empty house, and had bitterly commented that with Daire staying there, he'd maybe have someone to greet him when he'd get home.

He hadn't hoped it'd happen this soon. Yet he'd been moved under house arrest two days after half Hogsmeade had witnessed a hippogriff chasing a doubtlessly-alive Peter Pettigrew through the village. Sirius had honestly appreciated Moony for that achievement. But how could they trap the little traitor for good?

And this was only one of the lesser problems. After they had told Dumbledore what had transpired in the Room of Requirement, the director of Hogwarts had confirmed the existence of objects containing a wizard's soul. Furthermore, he had told them a secret: a similar item had almost caused several deaths at the school the previous year. And that object, a diary, had once belonged to the man only Dumbledore would refer to by his name.

Sirius's gaze fell on the suspiciously empty locket Daire had found in the kitchen before the house owner had been allowed home. If there were objects like that in his own house, what should he expect to find in the wider family's vaults at Gringotts?

He opened a dirty window, and let the fresh September air in. He looked up at the starry sky. It was a new moon, time for crazy new plans. It was his first full night outside Azkaban, and nobody was screaming in the cells next to him.

Realization hit him as he remembered accusations he'd heard so often. Wormtail might give himself up if Padfoot made the Unbreakable Vow to defend him in court.

Crazy plan - check.


	6. Chill air

**Chill air**

Sirius called himself numerous insults as he was taken to the Ministry of Magic, among which "absolutely brainless idiot" wasn't even a harsh one. He had sworn the Unbreakable Vow to the squeaky animagus he'd once called a friend, but even if he hadn't done so, there was no way out of a testimony on his own trial. He stood tall, partly because he wanted to display some confidence, and partly because he wanted to catch sight of that certain cloaked, bulky figure in the sea of cloaked dark figures. He'd spotted Mixie, the one with dark brown geometrical shapes on his (or her? Sirius had always felt there was something feminine about this specimen) otherwise undistinguishable robe. Howlflow, who had usually preferred outer wall patrols, was seated above the court room's entrance. Vaqqu had taken the position closest to the audience rows, ready to feed from any onlookers not protected by a strong patronus. Skipps settled on the far end of the same row, close to an olive-haired young witch. Chesire, the one with actual deatheater ties, was guarding Wormtail. There was no sign of Daire.

As for the witches and wizards: Remus and Dumbledore were here, as well as about a dozen of the dark lord's former followers who had washed themselves clean. Alastor Moody, keeping his magical eye on them. Several villagers. The press.

By the time he had been led into the room, Remus Lupin was near the end of his own testimony. He repeated what he had said before: he had found Pettigrew hiding in the Shrieking Shack. Which might have been a tiny fragment of the truth.

Sirius could only exchange a few blinks with his friend and former friend as he was led to the center. It was time for him to fulfill his oath.

He began by reminding the audience that he'd already told them the truth about the explosion he did not cause, and the events that had led to it. But after a few short sentences, he started talking about how his twelve years in the company of clustered deatheaters had changed his opinion. Pettigrew was not simply a traitor anymore, as he had played a crucial role in We-Know-Who's defeat. He had led the darkest of all magi to his fall. Lily and James had died, but without that treason, dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands would have been now lying dead, and the survivors would be seeing the Dark Mark everyday. Rhetorically he asked the jury, but addressed the audience: would they want to live in that nightmare?

He'd plotted well. Dementors' presence was freezing the jury hall in fear and darkness. Those with a strong patronus were defending two or three others, huddled together. Only he stood calm in the center, unbothered by the cold, untouched by the palpable fear. Was it just his habituation to the dreaded creatures - or the solid facts (not malleable feelings) he'd been focusing on? Or were all the dementors on his side this time?

He blinked at Chesire, whose breath was aimed at the jury while he was holding Peter's chain. Chesire loathed all wizards without distinction, he would roam Azkaban with his hood lowered, kiss-ready. That would lead to a merry mess here, Sirius mused, if Chesire would put his bare head on display. He almost laughed, secretly hoping Chesire would pick up the idea directed at him. But no, the dementor only turned to the former prisoner with a warning whisper. He really had no sense of humor.

After a quiet nod to him, Sirius continued. He told the audience what he had heard from the other cells: countless death wishes on the wizard who had double-crossed them. He pointed out that deatheaters still at large were likely to seek vengeance, now that the reason of their leader's downfall had been revealed to be alive.

He'd cast another look at Chesire, with an entirely different meaning. Chesire stared back at him from under his hood, as if asking if Black was seriously trying to threaten him.

Sirius continued with remembering the muggles who had died because they could not defend themselves, and asked the Council of Magical Law how many outsiders had died altogether since We-Know-Who had fallen. That number, that sheer number was the first thing to really make Black shiver.

Finally, he lowered himself to the chair, and for the first time that day, he looked into Pettigrew's face. He had been true to his word. As promised, he had done what he could and spoken in Wormtail's defense. And he didn't even lie.

Only after the trial did he see Daire again. After the crowd had dispersed, the bulky dementor floated closer to the formally released wizard. Some stepped in, wands ready, as if defending the convict now that he had been proven innocent would have made up for the years when they had their backs turned to him. Not wanting any injuries from a misunderstanding, Sirius quickly covered the distance to his former guard. Now that he was free and Daire was doing well, they no longer needed each other. Or was that so? Sirius had heard that saving the life of another wizard creates a special bond. Would that statement be also valid with a dementor saving the wizard, who had then returned the favor? Was the debt countervailed, or was it now mutual?

To his surprise, the dementor lifted his right arm for a final handshake. Sirius was taken aback.

He had never touched a dementor in his human form, not on the decaying-like greenish skin, not their hands that seemed as if ready to fall apart any second. He had always imagined that the cloak was some sort of necessary insulation, keeping the worst of the creature sealed away.

Yet Daire's hand felt ethereal, like a column of very cold steam, and something solid remained in Black's grip after the dementor retreated.

Sirius turned to Lupin. "Let's go," he smiled. "First, to Ollivanders."


	7. Sunset

**Sunset**

Hogwarts was, as always, a home to return to. Sirius packed his luggage with a swap of his new wand, then stepped to the window to bask in the late afternoon's golden light. His motorbike looked slightly out of place on the magnificent castle's balcony, but as long as the electric ignition was properly shielded from the magical aura disabling most muggle-made devices, its owner didn't worry. Not about his flying vehicle.

During last full moon, Severus Snape had substituted the "sick" Remus Lupin, then talked about werewolves and ways to fight them. This time Moony had made sure he'd leave the children in proper hands: he'd asked Padfoot to replace him for the three days as a Defense teacher for all the classes, third-year Gryffindor included. He'd be teaching Harry - that was an unbearably happy thought.

As he would be formally introduced only at dinner, Sirius decided he wouldn't run off to see his godson immediately. He didn't even know if James's son wanted to see him. He was just a recently released prisoner, trying to catch up with twelve years' worth of history.

Instead of running to the Gryffindor tower, he decided to spend the rest of the day at the library, seeking knowledge for future use. Azkaban had been found by the British Ministry of Magic in the fifteenth century, after the death of the dark wizard Ekrizdis, and by that time dementors were already there. This much was available knowledge. But he didn't know how they had been then bound in the Ministry's servitude, or how Ekrizdis had trapped them on the island, in the first place.

Padfoot's fingers curled around his wand: teakwood with Daire's gift as its core. Poor Garrick Ollivander had been aghast when he had received the parchment-thin, green skin-piece that had come off a dementor's hand. The wandmaker had repeatedly warned Black that he takes no responsibility for the new wand's behavior. But when he had finished his work, his sole comment was "Do not try conjuring a patronus with it."

Sirius took one last glimpse at his motorbike parked just outside his room, then headed straight to the library.

* * *

He had only found a young Gryffindor witch at the central table, barricaded with a rune dictionary, an arithmancy textbook, and a copy of Lyall Lupin's guide to non-beings. He didn't want to disturb her, but the witch looked up from her reading. After a quick introduction, she asked if he knew what was wrong with her professor. Sirius tried to laugh the question off.

"He's been like this ever since I've met him."

Sirius was prepared for funny looks, but she only thanked him, and turned back to her readings. He was shocked to find she was looking up dementors in the guide, and writing a list of questions.

"What's not in the book, that one or any other," he noted, seeing the first line, "while they are usually foul, they're not nearly as bad as some wizards are."


End file.
